Shiver
by Angelina1
Summary: First 3 Chapters rated PG-13, the Fourth R: Now Complete! An undercover mission that awakens unexpected feelings (some humor and lots of romance) BHCG.
1. Don't Know How You Do It

Author's Notes: Currently rated PG but will have a rating of R for later chapters.  
  
Shiver  
By Angelina  
  
Don't know how you do it Like there's nothing to it You just look my way You come a little closer I lose my composure Don't know what to say  
~Shiver by Jamie O'Neal~  
  
"I don't how I let Hawk talk me into this," Courtney groused. The former- model-turned-tanker mumbled to herself as she pulled the new formal dress and matching heels from her garment bag. She draped them out on the coverlet of the hotel room's bed. Glancing at the digital alarm clock on the wooden nightstand, she noted that she had just enough time to grab a shower, fix her hair and throw on the dress, a nice Givenchy confection purchased with taxpayer money, before she had to show up in the lobby to meet her 'date' for the evening.  
  
She turned on the taps of the shower and soon billows of steam surrounded her naked form. Resenting the fact she couldn't enjoy the rare hot shower, Courtney lathered her long auburn hair, then soaped her lean body until it glistened. She couldn't help but revel in the moist heat for a moment before rinsing, then shutting off the taps. Toweling dry quickly, she ran shivering into the cool air conditioning of the bedroom and began tugging on her nylons. As she slipped the dress over her head, the ring of the bedside phone pierced the silence.  
  
Cursing as she attempted to extricate herself from the flowing silk and chiffon garment, Courtney stumbled to the phone, a rare less-than-graceful moment. "Hellommph," she said into the receiver as she fought to get the material away from her face.  
  
"Cover Girl?" The soft, deep baritone sounded uncertain, as if it had not reached the correct room extension.  
  
"Yeah?" The affirmative response came out a little clearer than her greeting as she was able to finally get the dress positioned correctly on her body and shove her damp hair out of her face.  
  
"You're late."  
  
"Listen, it takes me longer. You trying putting on bras, hose, dresses, makeup and putting your hair up and see how quick you are," she snapped back, irritated at his impatience. Of any of the Joes that could have been assigned to work with Courtney on this project, Hawk had to drag him into this. He certainly wasn't her idea of debonair masculinity of the first social order. He didn't resemble any of the men who had surrounded her during her modeling career. Hell, he wasn't even quite like most of the guys she worked with on the base.  
  
"Just get your ass moving, Krieger." His voice had the sharp edge of a command to it, then the line clicked as he hung up the phone.  
  
Oooohhh, she thought inwardly, if only she could..well, she couldn't come up with a painful enough form of retribution at the moment, but believe you me, when she had the time she would certainly bring her not-insignificant abilities to bear upon him. In the meantime, she put her efforts towards making herself into a stunning knockout.  
  
Glancing at his watch for what seemed the millionth time, he growled in frustration at the current situation in which he found himself. Hawk had definitely fallen off the deep end with this fouled up assignment. Never in a million years would he have placed himself in this type of covert operation. Better Duke or Flint, even one of the other non-coms. He wasn't a playboy by any stretch of the imagination, not to mention who had been assigned as his partner. They were like oil and water. How in the hell did Hawk think they would be able to succeed in such a poorly thought- out mission.  
  
He reached up to run his fingers through his brown hair, which had grown a bit longer than he would have preferred but his customary short style proclaimed 'military' to all but the most unintelligent of observers. At the last second, he brought his hand back down, recognizing the fact that he had already had a very difficult time taming the dark strands which were just beginning to wave as they grew out. But his hair was the least of his worries.  
  
The dark suit, not quite a tux but strikingly formal in its cut, molded to his muscular body in all of its tailored glory. Uncomfortable was what it was to him. Unaccustomed to dressing up, only dress uniforms when he was absolutely required, he chafed at the idea that he was going to have to resort to this mode of fashion for some time to come. If God was merciful like he had been taught in church as a child, the divine being would take some pity on him and let the mission be over soon. Either that or let someone shoot him and put him out of his misery.  
  
He was half-way tempted to head up to Cover Girl's room and drag her downstairs, whether she was ready or not. One of the mysteries he vowed he would never understand about the female of the species was their abject tardiness and ability to make men wait on them. Instead he forced himself to settle himself back down on the barstool and order another whiskey. Maybe the alcohol would at least make the evening bearable. Not that he was much of a drinker, mind you. But he did need all the help he could get.  
  
"You better lighten up on those or I'll have to carry your ass home, Beach Head."  
  
Her soft, husky voice caught his attention as he slowly set the shot glass down on the mahogany bar. He turned, drawing in a deep breath as he took in the vision before him. Accustomed to seeing her clad in fatigues and dirt smudges from ear to ear, Sgt. Wayne Sneeden recognized for the first time how the female tanker standing there had once belonged to the elite ranks of the fashion model world. He also definitely understood what the hell Hawk had been thinking when he assigned her to the mission.  
  
He swallowed hard, trying to catch his breath while attempting unsuccessfully to find some witty retort rolling around his befuddled brain. "Not hardly," he muttered, all the while thinking to himself he'd like to drag her somewhere private, maybe his room and then.. Well, he couldn't really bring himself to contemplating what would happen after - that was way too distracting, not to mention real for him. He stood up slowly from the chair, praying fervently that his physical response to her presence wouldn't betray him. "You ready?"  
  
"Sure. Let's do it," she said with much more confidence than she felt at the moment. Stunned at the miraculous transformation in the Army Ranger, Courtney couldn't resist the urge to allow her eyes to wander his leanly muscular physique as he stood from the bar stool. Several inches taller than her petite form, the sergeant presented a dangerously sexy representation of the masculine species. Never in a million years she would ever dreamed he could pose such a danger to her willpower and concentration. In the soft warm lighting of the hotel bar, his hair glowed mutely with reddish highlights intermingled through the chocolate brown strands. Her fingers itched to slide through the silky short strands, while the dark navy suit had been cut to accentuate every sinuous muscle hidden beneath.  
  
Wayne's dark brown eyes, flecked with burnished gold, gazed down at her for a brief moment. Gallantly he offered his arm to escort Courtney from the bar to their destination, again startling her with the unusual display of fine manners. She hoped he didn't notice her imperceptible hesitation when she placed her small hand on his arm. Warmth emanated through the fabric to her palm, sending the warmth throughout her body as she berated her self silently for letting him get to her like this. Being this distracted by his proximity could cause the entire operation to backfire, even posed a life-threatening risk for both of them. As they made their way to the ballroom, she steeled herself against the feelings welling up inside of her, knowing full well they would never come to fruition.  
  
"I said, do you have our story straight?" Courtney's voice was tinged with irritation at Beach Head's lack of concentration. She was also puzzled by it. He would have been the last person that she would have seen lose focus. Usually he was too focused for his own good.  
  
Wayne glanced over at her, his face reading slight confusion before his brain registered her question. "Yeah, sure. Don't worry about it. You're the bait and I'm just the bodyguard."  
  
"Not hardly, Wayne."  
  
His eyebrows twitched at her informal use of his Christian name. Courtney noticed his response, and explained patiently, "You better get comfortable with using our names. It'll be stupid move for one of us to slip up and use our call signs while we're here. Nothing tips off a major arms dealer like military slang." She gave him a brilliant smile for absolutely no reason at all.  
  
"You don't have to worry about me, Courtney." He emphasized her name as he held the door open for her. She stopped suddenly, almost causing him to trip over her as he followed her through the door. "What in the.."  
  
"Watch your language!" She hissed at him, then turned around to regard him with her complete attention. Her gaze drifted down his body, assessing with a practiced eye on how he would appear to the enemy. His tie askance, she reached up to straighten it. She whispered, "I would never have guessed you had manners, or is that just part of the act?"  
  
"No, believe it or not, they actually do have some civilization in Alabama, Ms. Krieger." His drawl became more pronounced as he leaned into her. Courtney resisted the urge to lean into him, but he was already close enough to inhale his masculine scent. Wow, she thought to herself, he used cologne and everything. He reached out with one callused hand and tucked a wayward strand of strawberry blond hair back into her simple coiffure. "There. I have to admit, Cover Gi. I mean Courtney, you do clean up right nice." God, that sounded smart, Wayne. Give the lady the idea you're a complete imbecile. "That didn't come out quite right," he whispered back, chagrinned.  
  
She graced him with another one of her smiles, lighting up her entire face. "I get the point, Wayne." Her tongue rolled around the syllables of his name, a stark reminder of other things Wayne would enjoy her tongue to wrap around. He felt his body stiffen at the blatant thought. She rested her hand on his shoulder as she leaned into him long enough to murmur in his ear. "You look wonderful tonight, too."  
  
Then she left him standing there, stunned at the compliment, as she made her way across the floor to the table where their quarry awaited. 


	2. Don't Know What To Say

Author's Notes: Currently rated PG but will have a rating of R for later chapters.  
  
Shiver  
By Angelina  
  
I love the way your whisper Softly, softly lingers In my ear  
~Shiver by Jamie O'Neal~  
  
"Mr. Davidov?" Courtney intentionally lowered her voice into what she hoped was a close approximation to a husky seductress. She had memorized all of the known information about the elusive arms dealer on the flight to Las Vegas, but his current operations were sketchy and his past virtually non-existent. The intelligence couldn't even be certain if the man's name was truly his own, or simply an alias. One of the few items that stuck out in her mind was that he was a notorious womanizer, and that a woman who was unlucky enough to cross him (even if the transgression was only a figment of the man's imagination) would more than likely disappear, never to be heard from again.  
  
A fair-haired man, short in stature and approaching middle age, rose slowly from his seat at the table. Surreptitiously, Courtney noted that two bodyguards stood unobtrusively off in the background, available on a moment's notice. She knew that Wayne had already noticed them from a distance, and was acting as her own personal guardian angel. She had argued for this arrangement, knowing full well that Davidov would be more reluctant if the scowling, dark haired Army Ranger had appeared at their meeting. She could explain away his presence if pressured, but was reticent to pull Wayne in this unless it was absolutely necessary.  
  
Davidov extended a pale ringed hand, heavily encrusted with gold and jewels, and gestured for her to take a seat. As soon as she sat down upon the lushly upholstered chair, a waiter moved in to take her drink order. She requested some disgustingly fruity concoction, decidedly more feminine than her customary preference. Resting her hands in her lap gently, she attempted to remember all of the things she learned in poise classes as a method of maintaining her calm.  
  
"Ms. Kramer..Cordelia.may I call you Cordelia?" Davidov purred, his oily voice tinged slightly with a soft Russian accent.  
  
Courtney nodded. She had chosen the name because it sounded phonetically similar to her own. She had been afraid that a man who was quite familiar with the celebrity world might recognize her from her other life. It would be too easy for him to discover her career change after her stint on the fashion runway. Tilting her head flirtatiously, she replied, "May I call you Anton?"  
  
"I would be most flattered."  
  
The waiter returned with her drink and set it in front her, silently departing after Davidov put in their dinner orders. Courtney resisted the urge to insist that she was quite capable of ordering her own entrée, but bit her tongue, as she knew that it would be quite out character for her to make a scene. Instead, she took a swallow of the horribly sweet drink in order to swallow her pride along with the alcohol. "Anton, I guess you know why I called this meeting."  
  
Davidov reached across the table and placed his clammy hand over hers where it rested upon the table linen. "Cordelia...lovely thing that you are." She couldn't decide which was worse, the cold fishy feel of his hand against her skin or the patronizing tone he used in talking to her. "Let's not ruin our delicious meal with talk of business. There will be plenty of time later."  
  
Fortunately the waiter stepped up at that moment, delivering the aforementioned meal. Making a flamboyant show of presenting the food, Courtney could sense Davidov's rising irritation at the presence of the waiter. Trying to alleviate the situation, she glanced up to dismiss the server who was hovering over their meal before her dinner partner complained to the management and got the poor man fired. That's when her hazel eyes met oh-so-familiar chocolate brown ones. It was all she could do to cover the utter shock she felt when she realized that her guardian angel, if she could use the term loosely, was standing in front of her. It was amazing how his reassuring presence helped calm her nerves considerably.  
  
Etched in the fine lines that gave his face its uniquely handsome character was a question of concern. She knew that if she were to give Wayne any indication that the situation was getting out of hand, he would do his damnedest to extricate both of them at a moment's notice. "Everything's fine," she murmured, indicating the plates of food with a small sweep of her hand, the underlying meaning evident to both of them.  
  
His dark head bowed its acquiescence, and responded, "If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask." He walked away from the table, making his way back towards the kitchen. Courtney resisted the insane urge to follow his retreat with her eyes, and turned her attention back to the task at hand. She picked at the food, well-prepared but quite spicy, but in her preoccupation the taste resembled sawdust. Luckily for her, Davidov was tucking into his dinner with relish, oblivious to the brief interlude between Courtney/Cordelia and the overly enthusiastic waiter.  
  
Meanwhile, from his vantage point across the crowded dining room, Wayne relaxed in relative obscurity of the darkened corner. His eyes remained fixed upon the couple several tables away, his mind quickly calculating the fastest route for the lovely young woman's rescue should it be necessary. He allowed his thoughts to drift to their conversation earlier in the evening. He had been floored when she had approached him in the bar, and when she whispered in his ear, he was hard pressed not to sweep her off her feet and into his arms. The latent primeval inner caveman had loudly demanded even more, a difficult voice to squelch.  
  
He reached up to run his fingers through his hair once again, a long absent habit apparently not lost completely. Why the interruption in his nice, ordered world? The more he tried to control every aspect of his life, the more out-of-control his feelings for her seemed to grow. And here he was the one who had to be the most vocal on base about any kind of inter- personnel fraternization. Why was it that he had never noticed the decidedly feminine and very attractive tanker before? Maybe he had, but it wasn't until now that he was willing to even acknowledge it.  
  
Growling low, he grimaced as he watched the sleazy Russian arms dealer reach out once more and caress Courtney's hand. Wayne waited with eager anticipation for some sign to come to the beleaguered woman's rescue. He had never thought of himself as some sort of knight in shining armor, but the image strangely appealed to him at the moment. He noted that Courtney was holding her own quite well without completely alienating her mercurial dinner date. No doubt talking him to death. Wayne knew the woman's ability to prattle on about almost anything. Glancing about the room, he kept one eye on Davidov's two goons standing off in the distance. It wasn't as if the linebacker-sized behemoths blended into the genteel society of the dining/ballroom.  
  
Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he saw Davidov grab Courtney by the arm and haul her upright out of her chair. As Wayne started to cross the room, he saw her give a wobbly shake of her head, indicating she didn't want him to interfere. She allowed herself to be pulled along so as not to cause a scene. Good girl, he thought to himself as he racked his brain on how to best proceed from here. She was holding together okay, even if he had seen the surprise in her luminous green eyes. She had held true to her training not to initiate a scuffle that could potentially result in injuring civilians.  
  
The goons closed ranks around them, escorting the couple through the massive wooden doors at the entrance. Wayne counted to five, then slipped quietly around the edge of the room and out the door. As he slid through the door, he caught sight of their rapidly retreating figures in the hotel's hallway as they made their way towards the elevators. Scanning his brain came up with Davidov's suite number.  
  
Wayne waited around the corner as the foursome boarded the elevator, then as their doors closed he sprinted to another car in the bank of elevators. Impatiently shifting from foot to foot as he paused for the doors to finally open. That was when he realized that to reach the penthouse suite leased by the arms dealer, he needed a magnetic hotel keycard. The highest that the elevator would take him was three floors down from the suite's level. Well, he'd address that problem when he came to it. Punching the button with a little more force than necessary, he silently urged the elevator to move at warp speed.  
  
Her head was reeling. How had things gotten out of hand so quickly?? Courtney winced as Davidov maintained his iron grip on her arm. She glanced around the elevator car without moving her head, when she groaned inwardly to herself as she realized that there was no possible way for Wayne to get up to the suite without a card. If it wasn't for the two wool- clad mammoths standing in front of her, she felt pretty confident that she could have extricated herself from the situation with little effort. But having to go into this meeting unarmed had put her at a distinct disadvantage even with her extensive martial arts training. But one other thing of which she was pretty certain, this little incident would most definitely appear in any report Sgt. Wayne Sneeden would be submitting to headquarters.  
  
"What newspaper are you with, Cordelia? Or is that your real name?" Davidov snarled in her ear. Being a man of diminutive stature, he actually had to look slightly up at her since she had on her stilettos. The vicious glare lost some of it potency with the height difference. Apparently he had recognized that fact and yanked painfully on her bare arm.  
  
"I'm not a reporter," Courtney ground out between clenched teeth. At least she could state that with complete honesty, not that it really mattered to the slimy little man. The deal had already gone bad, and the situation raced rapidly downhill from there. She forced the breath that she had been holding out, trying to calm her pounding heart, knowing full well that the only way she had a chance to escape was by keeping her wits about her. And maybe a little prayer couldn't hurt.  
  
The doors dinged as they slid open revealing the posh interior of the hotel penthouse suite. So this is how the rich and infamous live, she thought to herself as she found her body being roughly pushed into the room. Davidov snapped out terse orders in guttural Russian to the two bodyguards. Wordlessly, Goon One (sort of like Thing One from Cat-In-The-Hat fame, only more sinister) left the living room area and into another room, closing the door behind him. Goon Two took up residence on the formal-looking sofa in front of the false fireplace.  
  
Davidov released her arm, it reddening as soon as he let go. She cursed him inwardly, mentally promising all sorts of vile retribution. He swung open the door to another room and gesturing in a strangely gallant way to precede him. Recognizing the foolishness of running at the moment, Courtney all but dragged her feet as she walked into the room, which turned out to be the master bedroom. Once inside, Davidov called out to Goon Two briefly who joined them in the room, then closed the door behind him.  
  
"You will tell me who you work for, Miss Kramer." The simple sentence held a wealth of menace in his voice, as if it would brook no patience for any dissembling on her part. Goon Two merely looked on, no interest or emotion evident on his face.  
  
"I told you when we made arrangements who I was." She swallowed, willing her voice to remain steady. Her story should have been ironclad if he had done his homework prior to the meeting.  
  
"You are just a little too eager to get down to business. Your boss should not have sent you. Many men in my line of work would be most insulted by the proposition of conducting business with a woman." He reached out and traced a finger down the side of her cheek. Courtney jerked her face away in response, not caring if it angered him or not. "I decided that if I liked the goods you have to offer, maybe I'll still do business with your boss. Very magnanimous of me, yes?"  
  
Courtney didn't respond to his rhetorical question. His eyes darkened as he realized she had dismissed his ham-handed overture at seducing her. He gripped her chin forcibly in his hand. "Don't play games with me and I might let you live," he growled. With no other resolution in sight and little patience left, the beautiful tank jockey hauled off and planted a nice facer square upside his head. It almost knocked him off his feet, distracting him long enough for her to sprint to the double glass doors, which led to the balcony adjoining the bedroom.  
  
Pain exploded up her arm as she realized belatedly that she had probably broken one of the small bones in her hand when she struck him. But the sensation of joy she felt at the pain he had to be feeling was short lived, as she felt the handle of the door slip through her scrabbling fingers. Goon Two had reacted much faster than she would have given him credit for, and now had her dangling over his shoulder in a tight fireman's carry. The few blows she could rain down on him as she hung upside down had little effect.  
  
He tossed her on the massive bed, using his massive frame to render her powerless as he took a pair of plastic zip handcuffs from his pocket and expertly restraining her wrists and ankles to the bed. Although outwardly emotionless, Goon Two must have derived some of the pleasure of retribution as he pulled the restraints so tight they ate into her tender skin. With the ease that his operative moved, Davidov must have planned out situations like this before. It would not have surprised Courtney to find out the sleazy little bastard got his rocks off from bondage scenarios like she currently found herself in.  
  
She shook her hair out of her eyes enough to secretly gloat at the damage she had wreaked upon Davidov's face. Pulling against the plastic bindings, Courtney tested her weight to see if she could loosen them, but to no avail. Davidov glared at her as he approached her, kneeling on the bed next to her body. "As much as I'd like to trade quid pro quo, Cordelia, I am loathe to damage such fine goods before I sample them. There will be plenty of time for that later, I think." His hand caressed her cheek tenderly, then trailed a thick finger down the side of her neck to the cleft between her breasts. His head dipped lower, lips moving closer to press their fleshy moistness to her own.  
  
She resisted the violent urge to be sick at her stomach.  
  
Wayne propped the unconscious bellboy in the janitorial closet and shrugged on the too-tight white jacket. He had kept his own shirt and pants, hoping the Russian's bodyguards were moronic enough not to notice immediately. There was just no possible way to get into rest of the smaller man's uniform. Reaching in the pocket of the jacket he found the passkey to the upper level suites. He closed the door of the closet behind him and made his way back down to the service elevators.  
  
As the doors dinged open, he hadn't accounted for the fact that the car opened right into the suite instead of down the hall from it. Fortunately for him, the living room was conveniently empty for the moment. The suite itself was eerily quiet as he slipped off the elevator. Stealing across the room to the first door he found, the Army Ranger leaned his ear against the door and could hear the soft rumblings of a deep Russian baritone on the other side. He presumed it was one of the guards talking on the phone. Sliding the small knife from its sheath beneath his dark sock, he silently opened the door and peered inside.  
  
Goon One had his back to him, the handset of the phone to his ear. The television was playing, the sound turned down low, but loud enough to conceal his footsteps as he tiptoed behind the large man seated on the bed. He moved fast as lightning, gripping the man about the head and slipping the knife through the soft flesh at the base of his throat. The hoodlum jerked up for a split second, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. Then he dropped lifeless to the bed.  
  
Wayne left the knife embedded in Goon One's thick neck, and quickly freed the fearsome .45 from the hidden shoulder holster. The pistol would be much more useful in the long run than the blade, not to mention the mess that would follow if he pulled it out now. There had been one other closed door in the suite; he realized that it might be better to come in from the balcony he had seen when he'd entered the hotel earlier in the day than through the massive wood door. He could at least assess the situation better from that vantage point.  
  
Creeping stealthily from the room and out onto the window ledge, he sucked in a deep breath. The Rangers had eliminated any sense of acrophobia he might have had, but he definitely had to focus to cross the narrow strip of fluted concrete thirty stories above the major thoroughfare below. The distance was only a couple of yards, but the smooth surface of the building didn't provide adequate handholds for him to use. He put one foot out onto the ledge away from the window and recognized that his shoes were way too slick on the bottom to make the crossing. He'd just have to risk it in his bare feet, so he tossed his shoes and socks off back in the room before setting out again.  
  
After several feet and a couple of tenuous moments, Wayne dropped down low upon the cement balcony of the masterbedroom. He could hear the soft murmur of the Russian arms dealer, but no Cover Girl.Courtney..the tenses were confusing him right now. He crawled across the balcony until he reached the small split between the curtains, unbeknownst to him, that had been created with Courtney's unsuccessful escape attempt. The sight that greeted him made his blood boil.  
  
His eyes were riveted to the sight of her luscious body sprawled supine upon the bed, her wrists and ankles restrained in some way not currently visible to him. Davidov's short figure was draped upon Courtney's as she struggled, twisting and turning in vain against his roving lips and hands. The lovely dress she had worn so proudly was now scrunched up about mid- thigh, revealing the creamy strip of skin above her thigh-high stockings. He shook his head to clear it, abashed that even the fleeting sexually tinged though flickered through his oh-so-masculine mind.  
  
Off to the side, he noticed movement and discovered the real reason that Courtney had not already made mincemeat of the despicable little miscreant. Since Wayne had a pretty good hunch that Goon Two was packing, he knew he had to take him out first, then hope to God he was quick enough to dispatch Davidov before he could harm his teammate.  
  
A scream pierced through him, bringing him completely into the moment and focusing him to the job at hand. The meaty sound of a slap jarred him into action, the glass doors leading to the balcony shattering into a million glittering fragments. 


	3. I Never Once Felt So Much

Author's Notes: Currently rated PG but will have a rating of R for later chapters.  
  
Shiver  
By Angelina  
  
Shiver, tremble, I never No I never once felt so much It shakes me how you take me Deeper than I've ever been  
~Shiver by Jamie O'Neal~  
  
A split second before the glass exploded around him, Wayne had caught the eye of Goon Two, who thought to shoot first, then possibly ask questions later. But simultaneous with the bodyguard's discovery of his presence on the balcony, the Ranger knew that he had been spotted and fired the borrowed .45 at the thug's rather large head. Wayne ducked and rolled to avoid the other man's bullet and the flying shards that were certain to follow. A neat red hole formed in the center of the bodyguard's forehead. Goon Two's expression was one of surprise, as if he couldn't have possibly contemplated the most likely outcome of a life dedicated to crime.  
  
As the remaining protection for Davidov fell stunned and lifeless to the floor, the diminutive arms dealer swung around stunned from his position hovering over Courtney's prone body. She shook her head, trying desperately to get her tousled hair from her eyes, but knowing instinctively that Wayne had arrived in typical Beach Head fashion. Davidov scurried off her as he dropped down on the other side of the mattress. Wayne fired another shot as the Russian dropped out of sight, barely missing him by millimeters. Instead, the projectile buried itself harmlessly in the opposing wall.  
  
To her credit considering the flying lead around her, Courtney found herself in an eerily calm state of mind. She knew that Wayne wouldn't hit her; he was too good of a marksman for that. Davidov, on the other hand, was a different story. But she also had confidence in the sergeant's ability to render the enemy powerless, and after the way the man had treated her, she didn't feel one bit of regret for his death, if it came to that.  
  
Firing once again to keep Davidov pinned down, Wayne dove for the corner nearest to him inside the door. Fortunately, there was a convenient buffer in the form of the heavy cherry nightstand poised next to the bed. He curled up behind it as the other man's automatic pistol fire twice, both shots ricocheting off the wooden furniture.  
  
As Wayne leaned around the edge of the nightstand to determine Davidov's current position, the Russian took a shot, barely missing the Ranger's head, but effectively taking out a chunk of flesh from his upper arm. Explicatives spewed from his mouth as fire exploded through his arm. It wasn't a bad wound, mostly a bad scratch, but damn if it didn't hurt like hell. Dimly he heard Courtney call out his name in anguish, then shout a warning. The exact words of the admonition didn't fully register in his adrenaline-charged brain, but he got the gist of it. Davidov was moving once again, towards the door - the only escape route viable to him now. All he had to do was wait for the other man to make a move.  
  
Apparently infuriated that Courtney had given away his plan of action, Davidov risked the chance of at least killing the bitch for getting him into the situation in the first place, even if he couldn't down the mysterious gunman who had thoroughly ruined his fun this evening, not to mention killed at least one of his best henchmen. He figured Igor had to be dead as well, or he would have already come running to his boss's aid. He raised up to shoot the girl in the head, when a blinding white light flashed before his eyes and he suddenly dropped to a kneeling position. So this was what it was like to be shot, he thought muzzily to himself before losing consciousness and copious amounts of blood.  
  
But not before he was able to fire a final shot.  
  
"No!" shouted Wayne as if his words and the welling emotion behind them could somehow render the bullet perfectly harmless.  
  
Courtney screamed and tried to present as small a target as possible once she realized what Davidov had in mind. But the restraints prevented her from doing much to protect herself. Wayne hadn't been able to react quickly enough to provide any sort of protection for her, before Davidov fired his final shot. Once he saw Davidov drop to his knees, then lay motionless on the floor next to the stiffening corpse of his bodyguard, Wayne jumped up from his position and ran frantically to the bed. Fear for her flooded his body, making him forget about his wounds completely.  
  
He gazed down at her face, pale and streaked with plaster dust from the earlier gunshots. He couldn't bring to look lower, so captivated at the exquisite beauty of her expression. Her eyes were closed as if sleeping. Guilt and a loss so devastating consumed him as he sat gingerly on the bed next to her inert body. Chunks of the splintered headboard littered the pillows about her head. A slow trickle of blood oozed from somewhere under her hairline, turning the soft strawberry blond a darker matted crimson.  
  
With a trembling hand, he reached up and smoothed the sticky strands away from her face, revealing the blue-black bruising that had just begun to form as a result of her mistreatment. Very few times in his life had he ever been moved to tears, but for some reason he couldn't even explain to himself right at the moment, he felt like weeping from the soles of his feet. One lone tear fell from his eyes, landing to slide slowly down her cheek. Soon another followed, then another. What he wouldn't give for her to wake up right now and argue with him, insult him, anything. He would happily take any sort of Courtney patented smart-ass comment with relish, just to have her back with him again.  
  
"You know, you don't have to spray me with water to wake me up." The soft feminine voice wavered, but was perfectly audible.  
  
His head snapped up, his glittering chocolate eyes opened wide with astonishment. Her eyes had never looked so green or beautiful to him. He could even see a bit of the deviously strange sense of humor that only Cover Girl was known for around headquarters lurking in their depths. She laughed lightly to herself as she commented, "Man, Beach Head, you should see your face. You look like you've seen a ghost."  
  
He swallowed hard, gaining control of his warring emotions. "I don't know whether to kill you or kiss you." Where had kissing her come in?  
  
"Well, the least you could do is get me out of these handcuffs." She wiggled her numb fingers and toes to force the blood to circulate through them. They tingled, like the rest of her body. She didn't know if it was from the horrendous headache she had as a result of the bullet that shattered the headboard, the broken bone in her hand, or just Wayne's sheer proximity.  
  
She definitely had to distract him away from her so she could gather her own thoughts. To think his tears were what had jarred her back to consciousness. She wasn't at certain how to feel about the fierce emotion she'd read in his expression, but it was nice to know he did care about her on some level.  
  
"Stay here," he said as he rose from the bed in search of something to cut through the plastic bonds.  
  
"Good idea, genius. Like I'm really going to go anywhere," Courtney snapped back towards his retreating backside. And was a magnificent view it was. He shot her a tolerant half-smile that said, 'I'm going to let you get away with that simply because of what you've gone through.'  
  
The only thing that Wayne could think of that could cut through the heavy gauge plastic was his knife, which currently resided in the neck of Goon One. He padded into the bedroom on bare feet, tugged the knife out of the corpse and made his way back to the bedroom. As he walked around the bed, the Army Ranger did do the manly thing that the inner caveman would have expected of him. He knew that she was at least walking wounded, but pretty much the same old Cover Girl. However, the mostly exposed view she unintentionally provided was more than enough to make his whole body tense with pure, unadulterated lust. Bondage, especially in relation to Courtney Krieger, was a definitely intriguing prospect.  
  
"Anytime now, Beach." He'd been caught ogling her. Usually that would have made the withdrawn, rule-abiding sergeant uncomfortable, but strangely enough, Wayne wanted her to know he was interested. Something about tonight had changed his outlook on their relationship.the parameters were definitely about to change.  
  
"Oh, I don't know," he murmured, the smooth dark notes tinting his customary southern drawl. "I think I kinda like it. At least, I know you won't get in any more trouble this way."  
  
"Well, we both will if you don't get me out of these and we get outta here. Remember nobody's supposed to know about this. We're goin' to have a lot of 'splaining to do if management sees three dead bodies, especially in their penthouse. Now put your hormones back in your pants like a good boy and let me loose." She glared at him for good measure, although she actually felt quite flattered by his blatant perusal of her body. Maybe it was because he was the last person she would have ever guessed would make a move on her, or perhaps he was the only person she wanted to.  
  
He freed her ankles first, but not before grazing the side of his hand down the sole of the nearest foot. Shivers of delight flowed through her at the simple contact; her foot and toes flexed involuntarily in response. Courtney was able to draw her knees up and to the side, allowing her to take some of the pressure off her back that was created by her confinement. Wayne, tempted by the prospect of sliding his wayward hands up the smooth silk of her stocking-clad legs, moved to the head of the bed.  
  
The restraints binding her hands were actually lashed to the metal of the bed frame, so it took him some time and maneuvering to reach them. "Keep still. I don't want to cut your hands." After sawing for a couple of minutes, he was finally able to cut clean through the plastic. As he was working to free her, Wayne caught her staring at him, but her expression was enigmatic at best. Of course, he never claimed to ever be able to read a woman's mind.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Thanks, Wayne." Her voice was soft and sultry. He knew that the statement of gratitude covered a myriad of things, including him risking his life to save her.  
  
"You're loose." Courtney knew his brusque answer was more like 'You're welcome'. She brought her tired and sore arms over her head, wincing from the muscles which had fallen asleep and the movement that caused her head to pound once again. She inwardly berated herself for being so weak initially that he had to slide his uninjured arm beneath her and help her into a sitting position.  
  
"Do you think you can stand?" Wayne kept his arm around her, long after he probably should have pulled away. He rather liked the warm feeling of her body tucked in next to his. "We might draw attention to ourselves if I have to carry you." Not that he wouldn't do it for her.  
  
She placed her feet on the floor, looking down at the plush carpet she saw he had no shoes on. "What in the hell happened to your shoes?"  
  
"Had to take 'em off to cross the ledge to the balcony."  
  
"Oh," she quipped, "I thought maybe you were regressing to your backwoods Alabama days." Courtney gave him a brilliant smile as she pushed herself, bones and muscles protesting, off the bed.  
  
Wayne glared at her as he stood up to steady her. "I can see you're back to normal." He twitched when she sucked in a deep breath of shock. "What is it?"  
  
"You're bleeding." Courtney pointed at the rip in his shirt, the deep gash's flow of blood had slowed to a trickle.  
  
"It's nothing. I've had worse." He didn't want her to worry about him. She had enough on her own plate, and his injuries didn't count for much. "Anyway we can nurse each other's wounds in my hotel room." He flinched when he realized how that sounded. "You've got a pretty good gash on your head. And your ankles and wrists need to be treated."  
  
"Not to mention my hand." She held it up, like a dog with a wounded paw, for his inspection. He noticed the swelling and looked at her questioningly.  
  
"I think I broke something in it when I punched him."  
  
"Did you do any damage?"  
  
"I knocked him off his feet. That's what got me tied down."  
  
"So I can't say you hit like a girl?"  
  
"Shut up, Sneeden."  
  
"That's sergeant to you."  
  
Hah, she thought to herself as she gathered what energy she had left in order to produce a departure from the room that would show him what she was made of. Unfortunately for her, it must had demonstrated she was made of jelly because her legs certainly acted like it. Just as she was sliding to the floor, his strong arms wrapped about her torso and hauled her to her feet once more. He gazed down at her, concern in his eyes.  
  
Courtney allowed her eyes to drift up to stare into his. She balanced her hands on his upper arms, being careful not put any pressure on his wound. Leaning into him, she tilted her face up and closed the short distance to place her mouth on his. She could feel his arms tighten around her in response, his mouth soften slowly beneath her lips' caress.  
  
A soft groan slipped from Wayne as he held her lush body to his own and gave into the passion that threatened to overwhelm him. The tip of his tongue danced across the seam of her mouth, tentatively urging her lips open to receive him. He had never felt so unsure of himself, his usual confidence did not extend to his relationships with women. He didn't want to rush her, but the feelings that coursed through his body pushed him towards the brink of something he wasn't certain he could control. Losing control was an anathema to him.  
  
He heard a tiny mewling sound emanate from her as she allowed him access to the interior of her mouth. The dizziness she felt stemmed more from the desire welling up inside her than from any injuries she had sustained. He tasted sweet, of sinful chocolate laced with a delicious bourbon undertone. Somehow she thought he would have been more dominating, less tender, but she was constantly amazed by the other side of Wayne Sneeden she hadn't seen until now.  
  
Reluctantly she pulled away from him, noting with some satisfaction the confusion and frustration in his eyes. Good thing the feeling was mutual. "We need to go."  
  
Reality sunk in as he blinked at their surroundings for a split second. He swept her off her feet and into his arms. Courtney's heart leaped within her chest at the quintessentially romantic gesture. "But what if we're caught?," she laughed giddily, feeling herself settle more securely in his arms. God, he was deliciously warm.  
  
The one thing she thought she would never hear come from Sgt. Wayne Sneeden's lips.  
  
"Who gives a damn!"  
  
To be continued. 


	4. Just Barely Touch, But That's Enough

Author's Note: This last chapter is an R. However, I am working on a slightly more risqué (oh let's face it..it will be thoroughly NC-17) and longer version. It won't show up on FFN because the rules; however I will make sure to include an address when I finish it so that anyone who would like to read may. Thank you all for such nice reviews. I hope to work on more Beach Head stories in the future, although you will find that my characterizations follow the cartoon more than the comic book. I am one of the first generation cartoon viewers (who sadly admits to probably seeing every episode at least once). Beach Head was one of those characters who talked quite a bit in the series, but you never got to know his background. I guess they liked to keep all those completely masked men a mystery.Snake Eyes, Beach Head, Storm Shadow, Cobra Commander, etc. But in a way it's so much more fun to play with them with no definite story line to follow. Thanks again.  
  
Shiver  
By Angelina  
  
The world starts spinning slower Then it disappears Your lips so close; we kiss almost Just barely touch, but that's enough To make me.  
SHIVER  
~Shiver by Jamie O'Neal~  
  
"What are you looking at? Never seen a couple on their honeymoon?" Wayne's voice was a low growl, rumbling deep in his chest. Even Courtney had to admit, the Ranger's glare at the gawking hotel patron was pretty darn fearsome in her opinion. She had been the recipient of that withering expression a few times, but it felt unusual to be on the other side of it this time.  
  
The elevator doors slid open and Wayne stepped inside, Courtney's weight in his arms. He tried to be careful and not bang her head on the door jamb as he entered. That would be all she needed, another injury but this time at his hand. He could feel her body trembling against him, and looked down at her, worried that shock was beginning to set in. Instead what he saw was unfettered mirth dancing in her eyes and her lips trembling with laughter begging to spill forth.  
  
Courtney had the grace and tact to refrain from laughing in the poor man's face right there in the hallway. She waited until they boarded the elevator and the doors closed behind them. Her whole body shook with the hilarity of the situation.  
  
"What?" Wayne asked innocently. "Do you think we should've held the elevator for him?"  
  
Courtney snorted. "I don't think that man would have stayed in the hallway two more seconds, much less gotten in the elevator with you."  
  
"I didn't do anything. Besides, snorting is not very feminine."  
  
"I'll snort if I want to and you will like it, Sgt, and you gave him the same look that you give all the new recruits."  
  
Wayne looked at her with a confused expression on his face. "What look would that be?" he asked imperiously.  
  
"The one that scares them so bad, they'd rather pee in their pants in front of God and everybody than face training with you."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
She knitted her eyebrows together, puzzled. "What about me?"  
  
"Did I scare you that bad?"  
  
"Do you think I would admit it to you if you had?"  
  
"Well."  
  
"Not to mention, I know some of your better traits now." She gave him a dazzling smile. It had such an effect on him that he took a step back, trying to regain his balance along with having her in his arms.  
  
Courtney's face registered concern for him. "Wayne, put me down. You're hurt too, and you can't keep me up here all the way back to the room."  
  
"Wanna bet?"  
  
"No, because I know damn good and well you'll try it, and hurt yourself even worse in the bargain. Put me down now." She enunciated the last statement for his benefit, as if he couldn't understand but the simplest directions.  
  
"No."  
  
"I can stand on my own."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Then why."  
  
He interrupted her before she was able to finish her inquiry. " 'Cause I like holding you.that's why."  
  
Her green eyes widened at the shock of his admission. He would probably regret telling her that, but now that it was out, he felt better, more at ease. "Wayne, I don't know what to say."  
  
"Then don't say anything... I don't know what to do about it either." He looked down at where she was tucked against his chest and gifted her with one of most beautiful smiles she had ever seen. Not to mention she had never seen a smile light the handsome man's face before, so it was definitely an occasion to mark on the calendar. Wayne whispered to her, "Never thought I'd see you speechless."  
  
His eyes kept her entranced, she could see the desire forming there. Typically she would be running in the other direction by now, but she was frozen like a deer in a car's headlights. The ding of the elevator as it arrived on his floor broke the spell as he lifted his attention to navigating them out of the car and down the hallway to his room.  
  
They stopped before the door. Wayne groaned slightly, as he murmured, "I'm gonna have to put you down. I can't reach my room key while I'm holding you." He lowered her slowly until her feet grazed the floor. Courtney tested her legs, most of the wobbliness had left.the remainder had everything to do with the Army Ranger standing in front of her now.  
  
Wayne fished around in his pants pocket and found the little plastic card to unlock the door. Scanning through the reader, he swung the door open and gestured for her to go inside. The room wasn't much different than her own, the colors slightly different and a whole lot neater than she had left hers hours ago. The man was an amazing neat freak as she glanced around the orderliness of the closet and bathroom. She had never met someone, male or female, that kept things quite as tidy as he did.  
  
"Let me see I can find something to clean up your head."  
  
"Oh, it's okay now. I think it's stopped bleeding. My hand hurts a little though. Got an ACE bandage or something I can bind it up with until I can get Lifeline to take a look at it."  
  
"Still, let me take a look at that gash."  
  
"I could say the same thing about your arm."  
  
"A bandage and a couple of stitches back home will take care of it. Now sit down." He pointed to the edge of the bed. She eyed it warily just long enough for him to recognize the source of her trepidation. He place two fingers under her chin and nudged her head up so that she looked in the eyes. "Look.I'm not such a bastard that I would take advantage of you, especially since you're hurt. I should have never told you that in the elevator."  
  
She knew exactly what that meant and she mentally kicked herself for not being more trusting and causing him to second-guess himself. "I didn't mean to insinuate that, Wayne. It's just..everything..today has been so out of control, I'm not sure what I'm thinking."  
  
He took her by the shoulder and pushed her gently in a sitting position on the bed. She sat there patiently as he moved into the bathroom and rummaged around for a few moments. He came back with anti-infective ointment, a damp washcloth, and an ACE bandage for her broken hand. Kneeling in front of her, Wayne waited for her to pull off the towel that concealed her matted hair and tenderly worked his fingers through the mess until he found the head wound.  
  
Like most head injuries, it had bled quite a bit more than the actual damage done. He dabbed the wet washcloth around it, cleaning up the dried blood before he applied the ointment to it. "You'll have to put some more on when you wash your hair, but I wouldn't wash it for another few hours, or you'll end up opening the cut right back up again."  
  
"Yes, Doctor Sneeden." He shot her an irritatedly patient glare for that little smart-ass comment. He picked up her hand, and expertly bound it with the long brown bandage. She would have to have Doc or Lifeline reset it for her, but he did a good job of at least reducing the pain by keeping the ends of bone from grinding against each other.  
  
"Now you," Courtney ordered as he finished wrapping her hand.  
  
"Nah.I'm okay. I'll just clean it off and bandage it up until we get back." Wayne rose to his feet, so she stood up as well.  
  
"Take the shirt off, Wayne." Her tone indicated she wasn't about to argue it with him.  
  
"Now who's trying to jump someone's bones."  
  
"Oh, grow up, Sneeden. Take the damn shirt off."  
  
He gave her one of those typical little half-grins she knew were a result of being quite proud of accomplishing something, usually involving scaring poor little recruits or a particular strenuous PT session. Courtney chose to ignore it and stood there unmoving in front of him. When he didn't move fast enough, she reached out and started unfastening the buttons.  
  
"What the hell." he grunted, startled by the determined woman's forward behavior. He had not anticipated this little maneuver.  
  
"You weren't moving fast enough. I don't have all day," she shot back at him as she freed the second button. As she moved to the third, he gripped her hands gently in his, effectively ceasing her progress.  
  
"I told you, don't worry about it." His voice softened as he held her twitching fingers steady against his chest. The throb of his heart reverberated against her captive hands, lulling her nearer. He knew he should let her go, bundle her off to bed but he just didn't have willpower that strong. Lord knew, he was so tired of denying himself some semblance of happiness, even if it was for a brief moment.  
  
Courtney could see the short, curly chest hair just above the third button of his shirt. He wasn't ape hairy or model bald, just a rich color of thin soft curls enhancing his masculinity. Her fingers itched to slide through them, tracing the well-defined pectorals. Racking her brain to see if she could come up with an image of even a semi-nude Wayne, she couldn't summon a single one. He never flaunted his physique, not like the rest of the male population on base. Actually it was pretty rare for her to see him without his balaclava.  
  
Wayne felt her fingers flex against him, noted her leaning closer rather than jerking away. He reluctantly released her hands as he threw all caution to the wind and lowered his mouth to hers. As soon as they were released, her hands found themselves wound about his neck, feeling the corded sinew beneath the skin and then locking themselves in the silky strands of his chestnut hair. Where she touched him sent tingles up his spine.  
  
Her mouth urged him to deepen the kiss, a tiny moan of frustrated passion at the fact he wanted to spend more time simply exploring the nuances of the firm flesh of her lips. The scent of his soap, mixed with the underlying odor of his masculinity, enhanced his taste. Kissing him wasn't at all what she would have ever fantasized about; it was more. Because he kissed so gently, finding the contours of her mouth with his, barely caressing her with each tender touch.  
  
Forcing him to deepen the kiss, she teased his tongue with her own, tasting the sweetness of his kiss once again. His hands had migrated down to her waist, and feeling like she floated on a cushiony cloud of bliss, she suddenly realized that he had her completely off the ground. In the midst of the wondrous pleasure she felt, a solitary thought grabbed her complete attention. He had taken her breath and replaced with his own, more intrusive and passionately possessive than anything she had ever imagined.  
  
He could feel the luscious curves of her body beneath his hands. It would be so easy for him to lay her down on the bed behind her, strip her naked and make love to her. That's what it would be for him, not some tawdry hotel assignation with a lover he might not ever encounter again. This was someone he respected, worked with, and yes, if forced to admit it, cared for more than he was comfortable with. Which made his dilemma so much harder, along with his body.  
  
Courtney could feel him tense beneath her mouth, instinctively knew that he had to be over-analyzing something. She slowly withdrew from the kiss, matching his intense dark gaze with one of her own. "What's the matter?" Her husky voice betrayed the desire bubbling just beneath the surface.  
  
He blinked once, marshalling his thoughts before answering her. "I don't know if I can do this."  
  
"Why?"  
  
That question hit the bullseye. "This is going to change everything."  
  
"Don't you think tonight's already changed everything between us?"  
  
Her logic was dead on. "Yeah." he swallowed hard before continuing. "But I can't just do this, then act as nothing happened."  
  
"Do you think I take this lightly?" She was more than a little hurt if he actually thought that of her.  
  
"No," he whispered roughly. "I didn't mean it to sound like that. It's just."  
  
"Look, bottom line and everything else aside.do you want this?" The question was so simple and straightforward, but didn't even begin to address the complexity of the situation. "Quick, don't over-think it.."  
  
"Yes," he growled, knowing that deep in his soul that it was the right answer.  
  
"The same goes for me. Give me a chance, Wayne. I can think for myself. This is what I want to.in the world's worst way. The rest...well, we'll deal with that as it comes."  
  
Completely oblivious to both of their injuries, Wayne pulled her to him, crushing her within his strong arms and ravishing her mouth with his. The sheer power in his kiss made her lightheaded, but she was able to keep pace with him as he nibbled and tasted, teased and possessed.  
  
Her fingers fumbled with the rest of the buttons on his shirt, until he reached down and pulled the shirt apart so roughly that the threads holding the buttons on gave way. She laughed against his mouth as he allowed the garment to slide down his shoulders and onto the floor. His hands only left her long enough to divest himself of the shirt and then they returned, skimming down her collarbone and downwards towards her breasts.  
  
Wayne traced the cleavage with a calloused fingertip as his lips left hers and trailed down the satiny skin of her neck. She tasted salty and sweet at the same time, like a cotton candy and peanuts when your parents took you to the county fair. An almost imperceptible moan slipped from her as he gently cupped one rounded globe in his hand. He felt her arch into his touch and used his other arm to guide her back towards the bed.  
  
Wayne helped her stow her baggage into the overhead compartment of the plane, then wordlessly sat beside Courtney. His face was so closed off, it was as if he had his mask back on - ready for another mission. She knew he had to be thinking about the night before, what they had shared, but another gut instinct told her that if she forced him to analyze it right here and now on the plane back to headquarters, he would completely shut her out.  
  
He stared at the back of the seat in front of him, much-needed sleep eluding him. It wasn't the first time in his life he didn't know what to do, how to predict all the possible outcomes. But it was the first time he had allowed his heart to dictate what he did, instead of his head. He was running, something he loathed about himself. You are such a chickenshit, Wayne Sneeden. She deserves better than this. He allowed his eyes to drift briefly over in her direction.  
  
Her head rested on the tiny pillow the airline had provided, her eyes closed in what appeared to be a dreamless sleep. He noticed her hands tucked into her lap, the bandaged one on top. Those hands had wreaked such havoc within his well-ordered world, had brought so much pleasure to his closed-off heart.  
  
He couldn't pass up what could be the last and only opportunity to hold one of those hands in his. Slipping his larger hand beneath her bandaged one, Sgt. Wayne Sneeden, US Army Ranger, cradled it as the precious and fragile object it was and permitted himself to drift off into peace-filled slumber.  
  
~Finis~ 


End file.
